


The City of Bats and Clowns

by sunkelles



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: And Rachel lives, Barbara Gordon as Batgirl, Gen, I try to work in the differences in character, Making the Nolan Films Less Sexist, Rachel is the District Attorney, does not just give rachel harvey's plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: District Attorney Rachel Dawes lives through Joker's explosion. Her fiance Harvey Dent does not. This changes things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> here's a slight reimagining of the dark knight where it's not quite as sexist.

District Attorney Dawes awakens with a headache. Everything seems wrong, and as she tries to move her arms, she realizes what it is. She's tied to a chair, and as she opens her eyes, she realizes she's in an abandoned warehouse. She can hear her fiance calling out her name, desperately.   
  
"Harvey?" She asks.   
  
"Oh thank god," he says, his voice cracking on the radio, "Rachel, I was so worried. Where are you?"   
  
"Tied to a chair in a warehouse," she says, taking in the view around her, "there are barrels of gasoline all around." She can see a little natural moonlight coming in through a window, and she can feel Harvey's two sides choir digging into her butt from its spot in her pocket. She finds the feeling a little comforting.   
  
"Me too. He's gonna blow us up," Harvey says, voice filling with panic.   
  
"Ah, ah, ah," The Joker's voice taunts, "I won't blow you both up, just one. Your friends will decide who. Now isn't this fun?"   
  
"You're a monster," Harvey says. The Joker laughs.   
  
"I told you how I got these scars, little boy," he says, "you think I'd be anything but?" Harvey lets out a breath.   
  
"You're going to be fine, Rachel," Harvey says, "they're coming for _you_." She doesn't know why he's so sure that it's going to be her they save. Harvey's always had a martyr's courage though. It's probably easier for him to think about dying than being left behind with her dead instead.   
  
"But we don't know yet," the Joker says, "that's the fun part." She put the criminals behind bars. They both contributed, and Harvey had much bigger plans than just working in her office. He wanted to run for mayor, try to clean up the city in ways all the rest had failed. 

Now he might never get the chance. She doesn't know who they'll choose, or if the Joker's bluffing. They might both die. They might both live. 

The Joker's voice cuts through her inner monologue, "Someone's walking out of this alive, Dawes or her little boyfriend, but I think I know who the _Bat_ will choose." Rachel laughs, a little bitterly, a little hysterically. If she knows Bruce Wayne at all, he's coming for her. She desperately wants him not to.  
  
The Joker starts to laugh, that demented sound, and Rachel jerks her body in the chair. Maybe she can save herself. Maybe Bruce will go for Harvey, because it's the right thing to do, because he knows it's what she would want. She highly doubts it.   
  
She tilts, and her chair falls to the ground. A barrel of gasoline falls like a tree felled tree, and the a liquid inside comes gushing out. She can smell it before she feels it on her face. Then, she can taste it. She tries to spit out the bitter liquid, but it all comes faster than she can move.   
  
"Tick tock, tick tock," The Joker says, "maybe the Bat won't save either one of you. Maybe I'll just get to watch you both die."   
  
"I'm so sorry, Harvey," she says, "this is my fault. I drew his attention our way." She can hear the clock ticking, and she wants to tell Harvey what she can, while she still can.   
  
"We're the prosecution in Gotham, babe," he says, "we knew how it was gonna turn out."   
  
"They're going to save you," he promises. Rachel is almost certain he's right.  
  
"I love you, Harvey Dent," she says.   
  
"I love you, Rachel Dawes," he says, his voice cracking. She can hear the timers ticking to a close, and closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see this either way. 

  
  
Bruce saves her. She doesn't know if it's because she's Rachel or because she's the city's golden savior, but either way, he saves her. Rachel feels her heart ripped from her chest as Harvey screams on the other end of the line, and feels her face seared off.   
  
She wakes up in the hospital. Harvey Dent is dead. She's not a widow. She'd have to be married for that, but it feels like it. She was going to marry that man. She loved him with everything she had. Now he's gone because the Joker plays God with people's lives. The Joker, and Batman too. He played the Joker's game, and he saved Rachel instead of Harvey.   
  
Harvey always wanted to die a hero, go up in a flame of glory like the martyrs of old. He got his wish on that front, but he'll never get to live his life. He'll never get to run for mayor, like he promised. Never get to help clean up Gotham, never get to tell her "I do". That might be the hardest part.

She digs in her melted backside pocket, and finds Harvey's double-headed coin. The head facing her body is unblemished, but the other head is melted off. She can still feel the pain in her face. She wonders what that must look like. She sees a nurse scuffling around.   
  
"I need a mirror," Rachel tells her. 

"Ma'am," the nurse tells her, "'maybe we should wait a few days. I don't think you're gonna like what you see." 

"I want a mirror," Rachel asserts. The woman nods her head, and comes back with a handheld mirror. She hands it Rachel, and she leaves the room silently.   
  
The nurse was right. Rachel doesn't like what she sees. Half of her face had melted off. The skin is completely gone. The flesh beneath it it fresh and soft, red and raw. It doesn't hurt, but she remembers reading once that burns don't hurt if you seared off all of the pain receptors there. That half of her hair was completely singed off, while the other half appears relatively untouched. That half of her face is completely unscathed, almost like nothing happened in the first place.   
  
She remembers an old insulting nickname Harvey told her he acquired while working with the police force. Harvey two face. She knows what it means now.

She sets down the mirror as she hears the door open. She sees Gordon standing at the threshold.   
  
"Commissioner Gordon," Rachel says. Gordon takes this as an invitation, and steps inside. 

"I am so sorry Ms. Dawes," he says, "we tried to save him." 

"I know," she says. She doesn't blame him, or anyone in the police force. They did their best inside the law. She blames Batman. 

"We'll make do, Gordon," she tells him. She won't let everything they've worked for fall to pieces. Harvey wouldn't want that either. 

"We're going to catch that fiend," the Commissioner promises her. Rachel makes a promise of her own.    

"Once I'm out," she says, "we'll come after the criminals at full force. We'll triple our efforts. You'll get them behind bars, and I'll keep them there. There has to be a way to save this city's soul." 

"Please, Ms. Dawes," he says, "let yourself rest. You've been through a lot." 

" _I_ know what I've been through," she says, "I lost my fiance today. I listened to him die because Batman chose _me_ instead. Trust me Gordon. I don't need to rest. I need to plan." Gordon nods. She doesn't know if it's because he agrees or just to shut her up. She doesn't care. She looks at Harvey's coin, and thinks about her own scarred face. She hears Gordon start to leave, but she doesn't care. She isn't talking to him, not really. She's talking to Harvey.   
  
"We're going to clean up this damn city if it kills me," she says, clenching Harvey's old coin in the palm of her hand. The old show on the TV suddenly turns to the news, and Bruce's lawyer appears on the screen. He's going to give up his identity.   
  
Rachel is actually relieved by this. She wants the Bat to stop. She wants the city to return to some semblance of normalcy. But that doesn't happen. She hears the Joker's voice, and he starts talking about how much he doesn't want the Batman dead, because Batman makes his life more _fun_. The Joker only exists as he does because of Batman, Rachel is sure of it. Batman created this monster. He made this a city of bats and clowns, and she'll be damned before she lets it stay that way. 

The Joker makes a threat to all the hospitals in Gotham, and Rachel laughs. This day has been too batshit crazy for her to deal with anymore. She closes her eyes, and falls asleep.   
  
She awakens to calloused hands shackling her to the bed.   
  
"What the-"she opens her eyes, and is greeted by the sight of the Joker in a nurse's outfit.   
  
"Oh my god," Rachel says, "no." She didn't actually want to wake up to the Joker. God, she'd just been acting facetious.   
  
"Oh yes," he says, "hello Dawes." 

"Fuck you," she growls. 

He laughs, and says, "it looks like you're taking this personally. 

"You killed my fiance," she says, "you fucked up my face. I kinda think it's personal." The Joker tries to take her hand in his, and she jerks back. He doesn't try to take it again.   
  
"See," he says, "while you and Hardee-"   
  
"Harvey," she growls.   
  
"While you were being abducted, I was sitting in jail. I had nothing to do with it." Rachel laughs, bitterly.   
  
"You expect me to believe that? That it wasn't your plan?"   
  
"Do I look like a man with a plan to you?" He tries to look as crazy as he can. Rachel isn't buying it.   
  
"You impersonated a member of the mayor's honor guard, you predetermined and informed us of every victim before you killed them. You're a planner, Joker. You're even a good one." The Joker shrugs.   
  
"I'm not a schemer, though. Don't hang my hat on whether or not things work out." In that moment, Rachel understands this man. Rachel understands why he does the things that he does, even though she thinks that he's the scum of the earth.   
  
"You wanted to let us know all our plans would fall apart. You wanted chaos."   
  
"You're a smart woman, Ms. Dawes," The Joker says, cracking a smile, "you know what I did to you and your boy toy was nothing personal. It was just to turn the schemer's plans on their toes. Schemers who try to control other people's lives. Schemers like like the mayor, like you were, like _Gordon_. But you figured that out, Ms. Dawes. You understand me." Rachel doesn't say anything. She thinks that would be suicide.   
  
"We're creatures of chaos, you and I," the Joker says, "and the thing about chaos? It's fair. Think you'd understand that, being District Attorney and all." He's holding a gun in his hand. Rachel thinks she knows what he's doing. He's trying to turn her against the established order, to get her to go crazy because the world made her that way.   
  
The world might be crazy. The system might not always work, but it's better than chaos. It beats what the Joker is offering.   
  
"I am nothing like you," Rachel growls so fiercely it hurts the burnt side of her face. The Joker takes the gun back, and slides it back into his shirt where young women put their phones into their bras.   
  
"No," he says, "I guess you're not. You're still a planner, a schemer to the end. What a shame." He looks a little sad, but excited as he leaves, and she realizes exactly what he's going to do. He's going to blow this hospital to bits.  
  
The Joker leaves her strapped to the bed, and Rachel?   
  
Rachel pries the last, half melted bobby pin out of her hair and she unlocks the cuffs. She runs out of the hospital as quickly as she can, and she finds Commissioner Gordon.   
  
"Dawes," he says, "thank god you're alright. Where were you?" 

"In the hospital, held captive by the Joker, running for my life," she says, "you know, the usual." 

"Don't joke about this, Dawes," Gordon says. 

"Sorry," she says. She knows that she can be a little flippant with things that really matter. She just doesn't want to focus on the harsh realities. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks, "are you just checking in, or is there something else?" 

"I want to help, Gordon," she says, "I know the Joker's up to something, and I want to do what I can for the police." She's a lawyer, and she knows that there isn't much she can do in the line of fire. She wants to see if there is though. 

"You're a damn good DA," he says, "but you're no police officer, Dawes." She wants to argue, but she doesn't. She can do more good in the courtroom than she can chasing criminals with a gun.   
  
"You call me the moment this is through," she demands. Gordon nods, which might be a yes and might not be.   
  
"You need to be in the hospital," Gordon says. 

"You need to be fighting the Joker," Rachel counters. Gordon nods again, and leaves her. Rachel makes her way across town to her house, avoiding the traffic that is all trying to work their way out of the city. She gets home and she plops on the couch. She turns on the news, which is running constant coverage of the Joker debacle with the ferries.   
  
Gordon doesn't call her, and the only info she gets on the case is from the news. It kind of pisses her off, but she understands. Gordon has a police force to run, and a wife and teenage daughter to get back to. He has more important people to worry about that the grieving, scarred DA.   
  
Batman defeats the Joker, but not without police help. Not without the ferries deciding not to kill each other. The city doesn't need Batman's order, just like it doesn't need Joker's chaos. She hears a knock on her door. She knows the world is hectic right now, and maybe she shouldn't answer. She still does though. She opens up the door, and sees Batman. It's a little hilarious to see the man in the bat-suit and the cape standing on her front porch like a trick-or-treater, but it's infuriating too.   
  
"Rachel," he says, in that stupid, gravely voice of his.   
  
"Come in," she orders. He slides silently through the door, and Rachel slams it behind her.   
  
"Are you alright?" He asks in that same damn voice. Rachel glares.   
  
"Take off the damn mask," she says, "and talk to me." He takes it off, and she finally sees him, Bruce Wayne. Her oldest friend, the man she could have loved. She loathes him now. 

"Rachel, I'm sorry about Harvey," he says, "we tried to save you both." He sits down on her couch, and his black cape splays out across the whole thing. 

"Yeah," she says, "I know. It just didn't work out." Bruce lets out a breath of air, like he's relieved. He thinks that Rachel doesn't blame him. Bruce has never been more wrong. 

"You're bad for this city, _Batman_ ," she says. He sends her a confused look. 

"Rachel," he says, "I stopped the Joker. What is this about?" 

"You're not what this city needs," Rachel says, sticking an angry finger in his face. Bruce Wayne created the man who murdered cops for fun, the one who left Harvey dead and burned her face clear off. Harvey was wrong about their just being heroes and villains. Batman's not a villain, at least not on purpose, but he's not a hero either. He's something in between. 

"You're right," he says. 

"You're bad for Gotham," she continues, barely registering what he said, "you pretty much created the Joker. You need Batman far more than Gotham needs Batman."  
  
"You're right," he says, "I'm not what Gotham needs. You are." Rachel didn't expect him to agree. She expected to have to threaten him. She thought she'd have to say she'd reveal his identity, and prove that she could make people believe it. She didn't expect the great _Batman_ to give up without a fight. The Bruce Wayne that she knew as a kid never would have.   
  
"You'll go into retirement, or I will reveal your identity," Rachel says. She doesn't quite buy that he's giving into her demands without even hearing them. Bruce spent half his life becoming Batman, and she knows how important it is to him, even if it's bad for both him and the city. She didn't expect him to go down without a fight.   
  
"Rachel," he says, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, "you bring more hope to this city than I ever have." Rachel never expected to hear that, not from Bruce Wayne, not from Batman. She didn't think he even respected the law. She shrugs his hand off her shoulder. He realizes that he's not wanted, and starts towards the door.   
  
"Tell Gordon to destroy the Bat Symbol," she says, "and to tell the copycats we'll prosecute them. This city doesn't need _any_ vigilantes." Batman leaves her house faster than she thought a man could move. She is left with her aching face and her memories. Gotham is left with no Batman. She still thinks they will be better off. They need something else, and maybe she can be that, whatever it is.   
  
  
  
  
Months pass, and Batman doesn't make an appearance. Crime skyrockets, and Barbara Gordon has had enough. She sews up a costume, steals one of her dad's old bulletproof vests, and starts patrolling the night. Batman had a lot of copycats. There have been a lot of people trying to take over his position, but no one has been successful.   
  
Barbara Gordon comes back bruised and aching, but she comes back whole and leaves a few gangsters out for the police to arrest. She does this a full two weeks before her dad realizes that the girl in the costume is her. He corners her in the hallway.   
  
"Have you taken on any extracurriculars lately?" He asks casually. Barbara freezes, but tries not to freak out. That's a fairly normal question. It doesn't mean that he knows what she's been doing. She tries to calm herself down.   
  
"No," Barbara says, "just gymnastics and karate and quiz bowl. Nothing new to report." She's been in gymnastics and karate since she was five years old, and she's at the national level in both of them. There is a reason that she has been successful as a vigilante so far.   
  
"I was thinking something more like superhero work," he says. Barbara's blood runs cold.   
  
"How did you know?" she asks.   
  
"Did you really think I wouldn't recognize your voice? Your fighting style?"   
  
"I'd hoped," Barbara says. Neither of them speaks.   
  
"Batman copycats in this city get hurt, Babs," her father says, "and the DA is prosecuting all of them. You could do serious time."   
  
"I'm still a minor, dad," Barbara says. She's fifteen years old. If she's caught, she doesn't think they'll lock her up for life.    
  
"They won't care, Babs," he says, "I know that they won't." He takes her hand.   
  
"Why do you even want to do this?" He asks. If that had come from her mom, Barbara knows that would have meant "you're crazy, Babs" and "you're scaring me" and "stop". But from her dad, it sounds like a legitimate question. So Barbara answers it.   
  
"This city needs a Bat," Barbara says, "a real one. Crime rates have soared even though incarceration rates are up too. We need that hope again, that sense of order and justice. I can fill that void. I can be the Bat."   
  
"The law will hunt you down," her dad says. 

He takes a deep long breath before he adds, "and they'll hunt me down too."  
  
"Wait," she says, "you won't tell on me? You won't stop me?" Barbara has always known her dad trusted her, that he believed in her. She never dreamed that it went this far though. She can't even let herself hope.   
  
"This is crazy," he says, "but I trust you, Babs. You're right. This city needs a Bat, whether Batman and Dawes want to admit it or not."   
  
"Wait, you really mean-"  
  
"I'm going to help you, Babs," he promises. Barbara Gordon smiles.   
  
"Dad, please," she says, "call me Batgirl."


End file.
